


Drabbles and shit

by Phantomsforever



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jim's a sick fuck, M/M, but i still wanna have it, i don't agree with all of the dynamics that i wrote, like the more dom!seb, poor richie, these are old and i don't want to lose them so i'm posting them here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomsforever/pseuds/Phantomsforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are old drabbles that I wanted to have compiled in one place. If you want the better written stuff, go to the end...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Edge/Knife Play

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for edgeplay/knife play. Older Sebastian, teenager Jim. Written Oct 2012

Jim is bound and naked, hands tied tightly behind his back, cock leaking against the cement floor, precome pooling at his knees. There’s no leeway in the rope and Jim knows it’s futile to struggle against it. That’s part of the allure. Knowing he’s finally given up control to the one man who could take it from him. Sebastian steps behind him and Jim can feel the cool whisper of the sniper’s breath.

"You know why I’m doing this, don’t you, boy?" He’s not Jim; he’s boy, slut, whore, toy. 

"Y—yes, Sir," Jim stutters, keeping his head bowed, and his limbs still, taking his punishment as stoically as possible. Even though he know’s what’s coming, he shivers slightly as the blade traces up and down his spine. 

"Then you’re going to be my good little whore while I carve you up nice and pretty. Maybe next time you won’t. Play. With. Your. Life." Sebastian punctuates each word with a dig of the knife into the sensitive skin of Jim’s shoulder. The criminal can feel the blood seeping down his back, pooling at the lower curve of his spine, before dipping between his crack and onto his balls. "You. Should. Know. Better," Sebastian growls as he makes the final cut and shoves his fingernail along the new forming wounds. Jim knows what it says before Sebastian’s finished and he tenses as the larger man circles in front of him and kneels. "You won’t do that again, now will you?"

"No, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Jim whimpers, eyes rising to meet Sebastian’s. The lust blown pupils of the sniper meet his own black eyes.

"That’s right, boy, because you’re _mine._


	2. Lingerie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Oct 2012, prompt was this picture http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m45kvsvBqi1qgk2bfo1_500.png

The door slammed behind Sebastian and he set his kit bag against the frame. For once, he simply couldn’t be arsed to put it in its proper place. His assignment, if one could call it that, hadn’t been as…detailed as he’d hoped. Jim had left out a few crucial points. Like the fact that there were two, armed, targets, instead of the one, unarmed, civilian he’d been briefed on. Jim was going to have a hard night.

"Jim, I’m home," he called as he walked down the slim hallway to their bedroom, even though the criminal was undoubtedly aware that he was already home. He shed his jacked on the way, muscles rippling against his standard black v-neck. The type he always wore for assassinations. "I know what you did to me, you little fu—-holy shit." Sebastian balked, freezing in the door frame.

On the bed, instead of the perfectly made comforter, and the pristine pillows, lies a rather unclothed Jim. He was clad only in thigh-high, black lace tights and heels, knees pulled under him. The black lingerie made his pale skin almost glow. His half hard cock was peeking from above the top of the satin panties, a small drop of precome darkening the material. And the man had the audacity to smirk. ”Mmm, hi, Sebby.”

"Wh—what the—-sodding hell—God, Jim,” Sebastian stuttered, words jumbling in his throat as he tried to make sense of the sight in front of him.

"You do know how I love it when you forsake your Catholic upbringing, Seb, but if you would be so kind as to fuck me…" The command is evident in Jim’s voice, even though Sebastian has every advantage.

"You—you little prick. You _knew_ what I was being sent in to, didn’t you? You just wanted a hard fuck.” Sebastian finally regained the use of his limbs and he sauntered into the room. “Be careful what you wish for, boss.” "You know me better than that, Sebastian. I have no regrets.” "We’ll see about that…" —-


	3. Kitten Nickname

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Oct 2012, prompt was Kitten as a supposed nickname for Jim.

“Make some tea, would you, kitten?” Sebastian calls as he stretches out on the sofa. Re-runs of Monty Python’s Flying Circus are playing on the telly, but it’s only background noise. Sebastian’s seen them all a hundred times.

He hears the stomping of a very angry consulting criminal reach the back of the sofa and smirks. He knew Jim wouldn’t be pleased with the name “What, you don’t like the nickname, my little meow meow?” Sebastian couldn’t be more condescending in his tone or in his posture.

“Sod off, Moran,” Jim growls as he flings himself over the back of the couch and onto Sebastian’s healing leg.

“Oof,” Sebastian groans, “Perhaps I should call you Cheshire instead of kitten, you brute.”

“You know very well how much I despise nicknames, and you’d do well to remember it.”

“You only despise them if you’re not using them on me.”

“And?”

“Aww, look at the kitten getting all riled up. S’cute, really, it is.” Sebastian barely has time to get the words out of his mouth before Jim is on top of him, asserting his dominance by shoving his tongue down Sebastian’s throat. The sniper pulls back. “Did I hurt the widdle kitten’s fweelings?” he mocks, “Does the widdle baby need a time out?”

“Fuck. Off. Moran,” Jim screeches as he lunges in for another attack. Their teeth clash and Sebastian fights Jim for control of the kiss, forcing his tongue in where Jim’s is attempting to reach. When the sniper finally gains dominance, Jim pulls back, cheeks flushed and a smirk on his pale face.

“If you’re not quiet, this will hurt,” Jim warns, dropping to his knees and pulling Sebastian’s legs over the edge of the couch. He palms at the sniper’s bulge and pulls the sweat pants down over Sebastian’s erection. Seb’s cock is straining against the cotton and Jim wastes little time in freeing it, and even less in taking it into his mouth. There’s no teasing, no foreplay, just Jim’s mouth on Sebastian’s cock, hand gripped tightly around the base, pulling up and twisting each time Jim’s tongue swirls around the tip. This is about Jim showing Sebastian he has complete control over him, can take what he wants, not about Sebastian’s pleasure. He pumps his head down a few times and he can feel that Sebastian is about to climax, and he lets him, grinning wickedly as the come spills down his throat and out the corners of his mouth. Sebastian is limp against the back of the couch, muscles relaxed and body slumped. Jim raises an eyebrow as his only response, showing Sebastian just how much prowess he truly has.

A similar grin curls at the edge of Sebastian’s as he stares down at the criminal. “Want me to get you a saucer next time, kitten?”


	4. Man I don't even know, Sub!Sebastian?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Oct 2012, prompt was this pic: http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcby32yfHS1qatj5g.jpg

The cold metal digs into the soft skin of Sebastian’s wrists as Jim fastens the leash. Sebastian’s cheeks color in response; he’s never been so humiliated in his life.

“Come along, pet,” Jim drawls, tugging lightly on the chain.

Sebastian has no choice but to follow, to crawl forward on his knees towards the man who is both his salvation and his destruction. The carpet digs into his skin, and he knows, without looking that the skin covering his knees caps is rubbed raw and red, Jim wouldn’t have it any other way. The criminal leads him about the flat, parading him in front of the windows and Sebastian can only hope that no one is watching. He hopes to maintain some semblance of his dignity, but today is not his lucky day.

Jim stops him in front of the window, and says, “Paws up, tiger.” Sebastian hesitates and receives a firm slap on the arse, only a warning. “Now.”

Seb slowly steps through the restraints and places his palms flat against the window. Jim becomes impatient and slams his entire body against the cool glass. He can feel his naked skin tingling with both embarrassment and arousal as Jim threads his fingers around Sebastian’s neck.

“You disobeyed me, Moran. That is unacceptable. Be grateful that you are my second in command, for I would not be this kind to any other of my subordinates.”

Sebastian doesn’t respond; it’s not his place.

“And now, all of London will see you splayed open for me, moaning my name as I use you for my pleasure. But you like that, don’t you, Moran? The loss of control, the voyeurism.” Jim’s nails run down Sebastian’s back, leaving angry welts in their path, and stop at his arsehole. The slick finger teases at his entrance and roughly pushes inside. Sebastian gasps at the sudden breach, but fights to remain still. He can’t show any signs of weakness.

“Oh, tiger, so tight for me. You want this, oh I can tell.” He works his finger in and out and gradually inserts two, then three, and then Sebastian has lost count of the fingers in his arse as he bucks backwards and rocks forwards for the needed friction. Jim chuckles when Sebastian moans as they withdraw. The fingers are soon replaced with Jim’s not insubstantial cock and Sebastian is coming undone beneath his boss.

“Sir—“ he groans, unsure of if it’s a question, a plea, a statement, but Jim understands, always understands.

“Stop rocking against the window. Don’t move, or I won’t let you come,” Jim pants between thrusts.

Through sheer force of will, Sebastian stills his hips and lets Jim use his body for his own pleasure. The criminal continues pounding into him for what seems like hours, and it may very well have been hours. Sebastian focuses on remaining still and on holding back his climax, when Jim’s thrusts become shallower and more frantic and then the criminal is coming, finally relaxed against the sniper.

“Sir, please,” Sebastian begs as he feels Jim slip out.

“Not today, Sebastian. You need to learn your lesson, and I still don’t think you have.” Jim pulls on the chain and Sebastian is forced to kneel at Jim’s feet, wrists still shackled, naked and dirty and used, until Jim becomes bored.


	5. Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Oct 2012, prompt was wall sex

"Boss, m’drunk, m’reaaaally drunk," Sebastian slurs when Jim finally answer the phone. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the bar, but it’s been long enough, and Sebastian can hold his booze.

"Sodding hell, Seb. How much have you had to drink?" Jim is by far, not pleased.

"Dunno. There were lots a shots. Hehe, that rhymes. Lotsashots. Lotsashots—"

Jim cuts him off. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

"Pub ‘cross from Conduit flat. M’in a bit of a tight spot."

"Don’t you fucking move, Moran. I’m on my way." Jim slams his finger on the end button and throws his phone against the wall, relishing in the resounding crack that he hears. It’s not the first phone he’s broken, nor will it be the last. He gathers his keys and makes the short walk in the cold to the pub. He’s freezing by the time the warm light of the decrepit pub hits his face. Walking inside, it’s easy to spot his sniper.

In the corner, surrounded by a group of what might very well be the mafia, Sebastian is attempting to play poker. Attempting being the operative word. The drunker Sebastian gets, the more money he loses. When he’s sober, he’s the best in the city, even able to beat Jim on occasion. But now, with who knows how much whiskey in his system, his reflexes are slower, and he can’t concentrate on the cards.

Sebastian has the foresight to grimace when he sees Jim walk into the bar and ducks his head, not making eye contact with his boss.

Moriarty walks up to the group and whispers solemn words into the largest mafia member’s ear. Sebastian watches as the man’s face turns stark white, and then Jim pulls him away and out into the cold night.

"You do realise that actions such as this cannot go unpunished, Moran?" It’s not a question, as both Jim’s eyes and voice darken.

Sebastian sobers minutely, enough to understand that he is not going to enjoy the next few minutes, hours, days, however long Jim decides to punish him. Somehow they end up in the alleyway behind the bar and Sebastian is against the wall. His shirt is hiked up against his skin, and he can feel the harsh grating of the brick into his back even as it is dulled by the alcohol. Small droplets of blood form and he knows he won’t be able to sleep on his back for days without wincing. There is a darkness to Jim that fills the smaller man with lust.

"You are going to remember my rules, Moran. If you drink, no calling me, and do NOT get yourself into situations that you cannot get out of." Jim’s hand is down the front of Sebastian’s trousers and he’s pushing the jeans over Sebastian’s growing bulge, until they’re down around his ankles. Without a warning, he flips the larger man around, and whispers into his ear, "You are mine, and I will not clean your mistakes again."

Then, Jim’s cock is out and he’s on his toes, pushing into Sebastian without warning. Sebastian groans in protest, but he’s far above screaming in pain, even though he wants to. He remains as still as possible, not letting Jim have the satisfaction of seeing him whimper. “You are my employee, Sebastian, and I will not have you hurting the empire with your little excursions.” Sebastian grunts, trying not to rock back against Jim’s prick. “You. Will. Learn.” He punctuates each dark word with a deep thrust. Jim’s breathing becomes harder and Sebastian can tell he’s close. The sniper just wants it to be over because he won’t get satisfaction, regardless of how long he’s been fucked. Jim’ll see to that. 

Jim comes silently into his fuck toy and Sebastian collapses against the wall, not even close. Within seconds, Jim’s tucked himself back into his pants, pulled up his zip and he’s composed. “Come, Moran.” Sebastian’s still leaning against the wall, unable to move. “Now.” Mustering the last of his strength, Sebastian follows his boss. He always follows his boss.


	6. Denial/Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Oct 2012. I don't really know how I feel about this sub!Jim looking back on it now, but it's still kinda hot?

The sound of the door to their flat signaled to Jim that he was in for a rough night. He knew it before, knew how angry Sebastian would be that he had, once again, risked his life for the game. That was the one rule. Jim was allowed to do what he liked, but he had to tell Sebastian and let the sniper be present, if necessary. Jim never really liked rules. From his place in the bedroom, Jim heard the kit bag hit the floor and the angry steps of his soon tormentor stomping down the hall and into the room.

The sight that greeted Jim was ragged; Sebastian had had a hard day and that would not make the next few hours for Jim any easier. There was blood covering the sniper, his shirt had a long gash down the front of it, and his trousers were ruined. Jim could feel Sebastian’s glare as the older man walked to take a shower. He was going to prolong Jim’s torment as much as possible, leaving the criminal shaking with anticipation.

Jim waited as the shower heated up and he didn’t move. He stayed stock still, knowing that even the slightest movement on his part would be noticed by Sebastian. He focused on the feeling of the silk sheets against his arms, counting each individual thread to pass the excruciating moments. Sebastian was taking his time, drawing out the punishment, so that Jim would be writhing before Sebastian’s hands even touched him.

The sniper stepped out of the bathroom and toweled off his hair. He had clean clothes on; black jeans, tight black tank top, black combat boots. Jim’s breath hitched at the sight of Sebastian.

“Strip.”

The command was evident and Jim almost jumped to do as he was told. In this situation, Moran was the boss, and he did not tolerate hesitance. Jim, though, enjoyed pushing Sebastian to his limits and smirked as he stripped seductively, hands lingering over his body. A touch to his mouth, a flick over his nipple, a brush against his hardening cock. Sebastian took it all in, eyes hungrily roaming the criminal’s naked flesh. Finally finished, he stood straight in front of Sebastian, a challenging glare forming on his face. Moran’s was stronger, harsher.

“You should know by now, that I do not allow you to hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t, Seb. I’m completely fine.” There was a hint of defiance in Jim’s voice.

“You didn’t me about the sodding job. You could have died.” His words were clean and punctuated. There was no extraneous emotion in Sebastian’s voice, only the harsh tone one might use when punishing a dog, an animal.

“It was an easy job, I deemed you unnecessary, superfluous. You had better things to be doing, Moran.” More than a hint, now.

“There is nothing more important than protecting you.”

“I hadn’t realised you’d gone soft, Sebby, dear,” Jim said, voice dipping and lifting like a song.

Sebastian growled in response and shoved the naked, vulnerable man backwards, onto the bed. Jim flopped onto his back and huffed, raising an eyebrow, “Awww, that’s cute, Sebastian, really cute.”

“Shut up and fuck off, Moriarty,” the sniper snarled, slowly pulling his belt out of the loops. Jim’s eyes widened at the sight of the black, soft leather against the rough, calloused hand. Sebastian smirked. “You know what’s coming, don’t you, you little slut? Turn over and god help me if you speak one word…”

Jim slowly turned over, relishing in the little defiance he still maintained over Sebastian. He shoved his arse into the air, legs dangling over the side of the bed as he wriggled his bum enticingly. “Are you going to punish me, Sebby?” he smirked into the sheets.

The first lash came across his cheeks and stung, but Jim remained silent. “What did I say about talking?” A second and third followed easily, slapping each cheek in turn. “You are going to learn, James, that you are not allowed to put yourself in danger.” 

Jim only whimpered in response as blows five, six, and seven landed on each thigh and then across both, respectively. Sebastian wasn’t holding back, and blows eight, nine, and ten, landed on top of the previous ones to Jim’s arse. The pale skin blossomed with a pinkish color and little spots of blood were forming as Sebastian tossed the belt aside. “Now, have you learned your lesson?” he asked and he leaned over Jim’s prone body, mouth to Jim’s ear.

“S—Sebby, you’re so sentimental, aren’t you? S—s’a weakness, y’know?” his voice was slurred a bit with pain, but Sebastian still heard the derision. Sebastian didn’t respond, verbally, anyway. He placed his calloused hand on the hot skin and ran it over Jim’s pink skin, feeling the beaten skin catch with his every movement. Jim tried to pull away, but Sebastian was bigger, stronger, and held the smaller man down.

“Looks like you are still a little shit,” Sebastian rumbled, voice deep with lust and something else. Seeing Jim spread and wanton beneath him brought out a little voice in the sniper’s head, telling him to push Jim to the edge, see how far he could take the criminal. He had to hold it back, or Jim would end up dead, because the arrogant fuck would never use his safeword, regardless of the necessity. Jim thought he could take anything.

Without preamble, Sebastian flipped Jim over, and pushed down his own jeans and pants, managing to get them over the boots. Throwing Jim down onto his knees, he said, “Suck.”

Jim nuzzled his face against Sebastian’s not inconsiderable length and took it wholly into his mouth. But, he wasn’t moving fast enough for Seb, and the larger man’s hand was on the back of Jim’s head, pushing him down, making him take the entire length. Once Jim managed to swallow around him once, Seb pulled out and shoved back in, watching attentively as small tears formed at the edge of Jim’s eyes. Sebastian held himself there as Jim tried to force out a “Please, Seb.” It only came out as a muffled moan.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it, whore.” Sebastian pulled out and rubbed his dripping cock against the side of Jim’s face. The little criminal leaned into the touch. “Like I said, you want it. You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“Mm, yespleaseSeb,” Jim begged, arching his back up and trying to get friction, anything against his aching cock.

“Hmm,” Sebastian mused, stretching his shoulders and neck, “I don’t think you deserve that. You still don’t know not to risk your life.”

“YesSeb. YesIdo. Norisklife. Importantlife,” Jim said, words mangled together with need.

“No, no I don’t think you do.” A glint arose in Sebastian’s eye as an idea formed. “Get on the bed, legs spread, hands gripping the headboard.”

Jim, finally reduced to following orders without a second thought, scrambled to do as he was told, hoping he’d finally get release. As Jim moved, Sebastian brought The Box out from under the bed and pulled out a thin piece of black metal, cuffs attached to each end. A spreader. Jim’s breath hitched at the toy. Seb grinned maliciously and began fastening it to Jim’s legs, ensuring the small man didn’t receive any extra touch from either Seb or himself. The final clink of the second cuff sent a shiver down Jim’s back. “YespleaseSeb,” he moaned.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, boy.” Sebastian pulled out a second bar and a pair of handcuffs. He fastened one cuff to the bar and the other to the headboard. Jim’s wrists finally secure in the cuffs, Sebastian admired his handiwork. “Hmmm, you’re all nice and spread for me, waiting for my touch.” He dragged a finger against Jim’s leaking cock. “You want it, but you’ll have to wait, won’t you?” he asked, as he pulled out one final toy. A cock ring. Gently, he slipped it over Jim and grinned. “Don’t move, or…” He didn’t need to finish the threat.

Sebastian slipped out of the room and went to put the kettle on. He’d had a long day, after all. He could hear Jim’s pleas from the bedroom and the soft moaning of the younger man brought a smile to the sniper’s scarred face. Maybe he’d finally realize that he wasn’t allowed to hurt himself. Maybe. Probably not. Little prick was obstinate as fuck. In a way, Seb didn’t want him to, because then, this, all of this dominance and punishment, would be over. Well, the criminal would always do things to piss Sebastian off. Tea doused down the back of his throat and cigarette butt discarded, Sebastian sauntered back to the room.

“Have you learned your lesson, Jim?” he asked; the sight of the poor man spread and hard on the bed causing his cock to stir again.

“Yes, Sir. Pleasefuckmesir.”

“OoOo,” Seb sang, voice a mimicry of Jim’s earlier song, “You do want it. Alright, but this isn’t going to be easy.”

Sebastian flicked the release on the handcuffs, but left the bars on. He flipped Jim over with a swift motion, hand already covered. No warning and two fingers were already up Jim’s arse, scissoring him and pulling him apart. Jim felt like he was going to burst. “PleaseSebnow.”

“Patience is a virtue, Jimmy,” Sebastian recited, as he slipped a third in. Deeming Jim ready enough, he gave his own prick a few firm strokes, lined up, and pushed in, all the way to the base of his cock. His coarse hair was rubbing against the little scabs that formed on Jim’s arse, pulling some of them off and causing the criminal to bleed. Sebastian didn’t care. This wasn’t about Jim’s pleasure. This was about showing the man that he was not allowed to die, that he was Sebastian’s.

Whether Jim was crying out with pain or pleasure, Sebastian was unsure, and it didn’t matter as Seb thrust in once, twice, three more times, rolling his hips with the last and coming into the little man’s hole. He pulled out quickly and watched as his come dripped down Jim’s thighs. A finger dipped into the viscous liquid and shoved into Jim’s mouth. “Lick.” Was the only command given. Jim’s tongue darted around Seb’s finger, lapping up the come like it was the last thing he’d ever eat.

Once his finger was clean, Sebastian pulled it out and looked at Jim’s still painfully erect cock. “You wanna come?” he asked, voice deceptively sweet.

Jim only moaned in response.

“Hmm. I don’t think you’re quite ready for that privilege,” he said, standing and then settling into the chair across from the bed and flicking on the telly. “And besides, Flying Circus is on, can’t miss that, now can we?”

“Wanker. Fucker. Prick. Bastard,” Jim growled as he came back into himself.

“Mmm, yes. Now shut up and watch the show.”


	7. Irene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Dec 2012 for prompt with Irene. I may someday continue this because it could be good?

“I’m not going to see that bitch with you, and you can’t make me,” Sebastian moaned, collapsing onto the couch in a fit of self-pity.

“It is your job, Sebastian. Stop sounding like a petulant child,” Jim said, sipping his tea at the kitchen counter.

Sebastian turned over, and in a sulk worthy of James Moriarty himself, let out the longest and most arduous sigh heard since Sebastian’d told Jim they weren’t getting a tiger for the flat, regardless of how much it reminded him of Sebastian. “No,” he mumbled, but his resolve was crumbing. He honestly didn’t have a choice in the matter and arguing with Jim would only prolong his torment.

Jim smirked, knowing he’d won the battle (as if that was ever in question), and said, “We’re leaving in fifteen. Haul that gorgeous arse of yours off the couch and look presentable, at least.”

“Won’t do any good for her,” Sebastian complained, but he did as he was told, patting down his hair and brushing off his t-shirt. “Acceptable, your majesty?”

“Fit for a king.” Jim took a last swig of tea and straightened his suit jacket as he stood. “Although, you could wear something besides jeans.”

“We’re not meeting a client, so it’s casual. No suits on Sundays.”

Jim rolled his eyes as Sebastian gave a long suffering sigh and followed his boss out the door.

**

“Irene, darling,” Jim greeted, exuding every bit of charm he had on the woman, not that he needed to, but it’d piss Sebastian off and put the man in his place.

“Jim, dear, it’s been far too long,” she smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his cheeks in greeting.

Sebastian was fuming behind his boss, jaw clenched, hand a centimetre from his SIG. “Irene,” he said tightly, once their little show was finished and the two almost-lovers stepped back.

“Sebastian,” she returned, charming as she’d been with Jim, but there was a devilish hint behind her eyes. She was planning something and Sebastian would be damned if he let her get to Jim. Jim was his.

“How’s the professional whoring coming?” he asked, menacing grin quick on his face.

“Moran,” Jim warned, “Mind your tongue.” He turned to Irene. “Tiger’s been prickly ever since we left the flat. Must have given him too much catnip this morning.”

Sebastian knew Jim was winding him up, knew the little bastard liked to play with his toys, or whatever he was calling them these days, and yet, he couldn’t resist the bile that rose in his throat. Irene. Fucking bitch was looking at Jim the way only he was allowed to. They were both putting on a show for the sniper, and he knew it. He bloody well realised that he was the third wheel and that Jim had only brought him along to teach him a lesson. Fucking prick. “Need a smoke,” he grunted.

“Not in here, Sebby. And you’re not to leave until we do,” Jim smiled sweetly up at him. “Sit.”

Sebastian did as he was told and was subject to the most inane conversation he thought Jim had ever held. They talked about nothing. He couldn’t have told you one of the topics that they rambled about when they were finally finished.

“…so, that’s a yes, Sebastian?” Jim asked, as they were ending their little show.

Sebastian snapped back into the present. “Er…yeah, sorry boss. Yes.”

Jim smirked a knowing smile. “Perfect.”

“Perfect,” Irene repeated, mirroring Jim.

Sebastian looked at them both in turn, eyes flitting from one smug face to the other. “Wait, the fuck did I agree to?”

“Oh, ‘Bastian, you should know better than to agree without knowing…”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing, Tiger. Ms. Adler’s agreed to help with your, shall we say, training.”

“Fuck.”

Irene grinned.


	8. Foreign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written April 2014. Prompt: Foreign

The cold wind was odd for July in Dublin, but Richard hardly felt it as he meandered through the park, alone, with only his shadow for company. It trailed behind him as a small dog might, but without the lively presence. Rich needed get away from Jim and Sebastian. Bastian, at least, had been hovering for days and Rich couldn’t take it anymore. He had to see Severin. His lion.

The park was mostly empty this late in the afternoon as Richard slowly made his way to his final destination. The flowers he held were drooping slightly but it didn’t matter. Severin wouldn’t care. Severin couldn’t care. 

His fingers brushed the cool granite as he laid the flowers across the grass. It was cold and uninviting. Nothing like Severin; always warm and lively and cracking a joke. Richard almost smiled to himself, remembering how Sev had always loved creeping around graveyards, making fun of the old fashioned names. 

_"Bunny! Ha, come look at this chick’s name. It’s literally Yowanna Screw."_

_“C’mon Sev! We shouldn’t make fun of them; be respectful!”_

_"S’not my fault her name is just begging for it."_

_"SEV!"_

_"Alright, alright."_

Coming back from the memory was worse than before. Rich’s head hit the black stone as he crumbled, trying to pull some warmth from the rock. It wasn’t Severin. He wasn’t ever coming home.

"Please, lion, come back. Everything’s weird and foreign without you."

The chilled granite was stoic and quiet as ever.


	9. Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written April 2014. Prompt: Obsession  
> First person POV from Sebastian

He’d been holed up in that dark cupboard for days. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that focused. Even with Holmes, he’d occasionally eat, but now, I’m quite sure he’s not had even water in at least 48 hours. I still don’t know how the bastard works like that. In uni, I had to have snack breaks all the fucking time just to focus on writing at 10 page paper. I should check on him. Bring him some toast, at least.

"Jim?" My voice is hushed, lips against the door, if he’s sleeping, I don’t want to wake him.

"Leave it, Moran. I’m working. You know you’re not allowed in." His voice is angry, but distracted. The words float out quietly, but I don’t listen. I know I’ll be punished, but that idiot has to eat.

"You need food, boss. It’s been days." I’m stern but not demanding, demanding never works when he’s in this state. I learned _that_ the hard way. 

"Fine, leave it outside the door."

That’s the most acquiescence I’ve ever gotten outta him, so I softly place the sandwich and water next to the wall and hope to fuck he actually eats it. That night, as I’m heading to bed, there some fucking weird noises coming from that room. Not grunts, but a mixture of sighs and moans and I’d half a mind to make sure he wasn’t being murdered. But noone, not even the second most dangerous man in London, could get into that room without Moriarty’s express permission. Which he never grants. Ever. Fucker. 

"Wa—" I mumble, woken up by what feels like a large dog bouncing on the bed. 

"I knew I could solve it. Those idiots at the university couldn’t tell an Riemann sum from a Gauss sum."

"Huh?" I was smart, but Moriarty’s mind was a palace.

"The Brumer-Stark conjecture, Sebastian. Truly, I thought your mind was more astute than that." He sounded huffy since I wasn’t nearly as excited as he was, regardless of the fact that I had a small crazy-eyed Irishman on my chest at 4 AM. 

"Yeah, yeah, great, can you get some sleep now?"

"Now that you say it…" he yawned rather largely, "…I am a little…" He dozed off fucking mid-sentence. I shifted slightly so that I could breathe, and pushed him into the inside of the bed. 

"You little intelligent shit."


	10. Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written April 2014. Prompt: Keeping a secret with Severin Moran and Jim Moriarty

Blood was pounding in his ears so excruciatingly loud that he barely heard the question. “Sir?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Jim laughed. A dark laugh that certainly wasn’t conveying happiness. “I said, secrets, secrets, are no fun unless they’re shared with everyone,” he giggled, pulling back his flogger to land several sharp hits across Severin’s sensitive sides. They pulled blood to the surface and hit in just the right place to avoid major organs, but cause the most pain possible.

Severin was dangling from the ceiling, in a familiar position, naked from the waist up. All of the assets had been through this _ordeal _, as Jim liked to call it, and this was Severin’s yearly check.__

__"No," Severin managed to wince out, blood slowly dripping from the new cuts on his side. He could see the trails of red sliding down and hitting the top of his boxers, soaking them and bleeding through to his jeans. He had no idea how long he’d been hanging; it didn’t matter. The test wouldn’t be over until Moriarty was finished._ _

__"C’mon, lion, just tell me?" Jim purred into Sev’s ear. "Then this will all be over, you know. It’s just one little word."_ _

__Severin grimaced at the pet name, but didn’t say anything, just braced himself for the pain he knew was coming. Jim now had the whip in his hand and pulled back for four quick strikes along Severin’s back. The agonizing pain spread through his spine and he wanted to scream, but couldn’t give Moriarty the satisfaction of pulling that from him. So he just grunted and maintained his silence._ _

__"Oh, lion, you’re doing so well, would you like to be let down? Perhaps put in a cage for the night until your trainer can come back in the morning and break you?" Jim’s light lilt carried through the room and Severin honestly didn’t care what Jim did to him; it’d be over soon enough and he’d be back with Richard to take care of him._ _

__"Cage me sir, like the animal I am," the words passed through his lips before he knew what he was saying. A smile spread across the smaller man’s face._ _

__"I knew you’d break. You always do. Earlier than Sebastian this year. Guess you’ll have to toughen up. Next year will be harder," Jim cooed as he made quick work of the rope holding Severin up and laid him, almost tenderly, into the nearby seat. Sebastian appeared and half-helped, half-carried Severin up the stairs to his room where Richard was waiting._ _

__"Oh my lion, what has he done to you?"_ _

__Severin winced at the name._ _


End file.
